


i've got a bad boy and that's alright with me

by heavydiirtysoul



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking, joshler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8609758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavydiirtysoul/pseuds/heavydiirtysoul
Summary: come talk to me on tumblr





	

"Assume the position, Josh."

Legs are slightly parted, hands firm on the desk in front of him. Eyes straight ahead, quiet, waiting. He knows what's coming.

"Safeword?"

"Peaches."

"Peaches."

Tyler repeats the word quietly. Josh can almost see the way he nods flash before his eyes, softly, approvingly. He knows Tyler so well, he doesn't need to see him to know what he looks like right now, pacing to and fro in the space behind him.

The wooden floors squeak silently.

Goosebumps are riding the small of his back as Tyler places his hand there, tugs at the hem of Josh's shirt so it reveals the barely there tan line right above his waist. His touch is so tender that Josh almost wants to raise a hand to his mouth, bite down. He wants to whimper, knows he isn't allowed to, makes no sound. Bites down on his bottom lip instead, hard.

"What do you want me to do, Josh?"

Tyler's hand disappears, Josh shivers. Doesn't answer.

The footsteps still.

"Permission to answer."

Josh whines, squirms.

"I want you to spank me, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because I deserve it. Because I've been naughty."

Tyler doesn't reply. Josh is stalling, and he knows Tyler doesn't like that.

"Go on. Elaborate."

Josh's eyes follow a few pieces of dust flooating in the warm, thick afternoon sun pouring through the window in front of him.

"Josh."

He snaps out of it, braces his hands harder. White knuckles on a hackneyed edge of the desk.

"I touched myself in the shower when you told me not to, Sir. I disobeyed you, therefore I need you to punish me. Want you", he corrects himself, "to punish me. ... Sir."

His voice is stirring with anticipation.

Tyler seems to be satisfied with his answer. The steps resume, soft pats on old wood.

"How many?"

"Ten, Sir."

"Ten it is."

The steps move away, the familiar noise of a drawer being opened and closed again.

"I'm using the paddle."

His arms are aching with the weight of his upper body resting on them, his legs slightly trembling, voice shaking when he answers.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

He can almost feel Tyler's presence radiating through the room. 

It's silent for a minute. He knows Tyler is opening the buttons on his shirtsleeves, pushes them up. Takes off his watch, places it neatly just in view for him on the desk. Slender fingers, and Josh feels like letting his eyes fall shut with overwhelming impatience just upon imagining them wrap around the handle of the paddle. 

"I want you to count as we go. Each one. Out loud. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't say anything else. I want to hear nothing except you counting, and the paddle."

"Yes, Sir."

"Repeat the safeword."

"Peaches."

"Peaches", Tyler mutters, and then the paddle swats down with force, a dull thud against the fabric of his briefs, and Josh can feel every single muscle in his body scream with the sudden pain setting him on fire and cursing through his veins.

"One!", he pants, voice choked, eyes finally screwing shut. 

Another swat, body jerking forward and away from the pain involuntarily, and he holds onto the desk harder.

"Two -"

He has barely gotten the word out when the third hit comes, and tears are starting to gather in the corners of his eyes.

"Three."

"Good boy", Tyler praises, lets the paddle rest on the small of Josh's back, softly. "How many more?"

"Seven, Sir."

The paddle grazes along his skin, his shirt already ridden up slightly. Then it's gone, and the next hit is harder than the ones before.

"Four!", he yells, voice coarse as he swallows hard, tries to suppress the whimpers begging to be let out.

Swat, "five", swat, "six", swat, "seven!"

His legs are shaking hard enough to have Tyler rest a soothing hand on the curve of his ass, patting carefully.

"You're doing so good. You're being such a good boy for me, Josh."

Josh suppresses the urge to nod, just lets his head hang low as a single drop of sweat runs along his forehead, comes to sit on the tip of his nose.

The next hit drives him forward against the edge of the desk, whining, and the disapproval in Tyler's voice is so thick it feels like honey dripping from his lips and the tip of his tongue.

"Josh. Resume the position. Don't make me regret praising you before."

He's afraid his legs will give out underneath him when he repositions them shakily, and his knuckles are so white that it feels like they're close to breaking.

"How many down, Josh?"

"Ei - eight, Sir."

His voice is barely recognizable, quiet and quivering and rough.

"But I didn't hear you say eight. Have you said it, Josh?"

Josh whimpers, shakes his head. 

"No, Sir."

"Then I assume you meant to answer seven. Am I right?"

"Yes, Sir. I - I wanted to say seven."

"Good boy."

Two more hits, "se - seven, eight!", and Josh is crying now, tears salty on his lips as the pain roams through his whole body, radiates into his legs and the strained muscles of his shoulders, into his neck and straight to his core. His body is so painfully exerted just holding him in place that he can't decide which pain is worse -- the way his muscles ache and ripple beneath his sweaty skin or the paddle when it swats down.

"Shh, Josh. Shh. You're being such a good boy." A tender hand is placed on his arm, and Tyler carefully cups a hand under his chin, lifts his head up. The paddle finds its place on the desk, and Tyler wipes away his tears with both thumbs and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Josh still doesn't dare move, just trembles silently as Tyler tends to him. 

"Do you want to stop?"

Tyler is barely whispering. It's unlike him to break character, so Josh assumes he must look worse than he had thought. He shakes his head nonetheless.

"No. Please. Two more."

"Okay."

The paddle is picked up again, a fingertip draws patterns on his back.

"Out loud."

"Yes, Sir."

The paddle comes down again, another hit, but less strong than before. Josh whinces, but doesn't duck away this time even though he feels like collapsing to the floor and curling up into a ball.

"Nine."

"I'm so proud of you, Josh. So proud."

The last hit echoes in his bones, and Josh can feel his muscles revolt against it, twitching and trembling, but Tyler is by his side in a second and holds him, pulls him close against his chest. 

"Shh. You did so good, baby. Such a good boy for me."

Hands are carding through his hair, messing it up with the damp sweat from his forehead, and Tyler guides him to their bed, still holding him close and petting his hair.

"Here, lay down. On your front."

Josh obeys, and warm hands pat against his waist, sign for him to buck his hips up, and Tyler pulls off his briefs carefully.

"Beautiful", he hears him mutter, but Josh's face is buried in the soft sheets and he doesn't feel like answering, is too worn out and exhausted and everything hurts.

Tyler rummages in their drawer again, probably putting away the paddle and getting the lotion.

The sound of a bottle being uncapped confirms his assumption, and he whimpers quietly when Tyler starts massaging the cool lotion into his red, stinging skin.

They're both quiet except for the low humming from Tyler, murmuring melodies while he takes care of Josh, and then he's lying down beside him, arms open for him to crawl into.

"You were so good. I'm really proud of you, Josh."

"Thank you, Tyler", he mumbles, already half dozing off in nothing but his shirt, content with the aftermath of the pain burning slowly in his muscles.

"But hey." Tyler nudges his neck with his chin, pecks a kiss into his hair. "No disobeying my orders next time, yes? So we don't have to do this again."

Josh nods, but he isn't sure how long he can keep that promise; because honestly, deep down, he really likes being naughty.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.spookykittyjosh.tumblr.com)


End file.
